


don’t get your tinsel in a tangle

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Honestly this was so cute to write, fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: “Christmas Couples Contest. Participate in quizzes, games and other fun to win $200 in cash and other prizes. Must be couples who have been dating for six months or more.” Clarke glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware that we were a couple at all.”Bellamy took back the flyer, excitement still lighting up his eyes. “We aren’t—that’s the point. We pretend. We’ll win, and split the cash.”Or the one where fuck buddies try to fake date and it doesn’t go well





	don’t get your tinsel in a tangle

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry i abandoned you all it twas not intentional. tis the season

2:21pm.

_Eight more minutes._

She tapped her pencil impatiently on the desk, watching the little hand with the focus she should be giving to her math textbook. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, anxiousness clutching at her.

2:27pm.

They’d agreed to meet at three, which was an idiot move on her part—she’d have to wait a full half hour before heading over. And she was barely holding herself together now.

2:30pm.

She practically catapulted out of her seat when the bell rang, dodging her fellow students to get to her locker. Thankfully, she left it unlocked at all times, and she was out of the building and in her car in record time. She went through a list of things she could do to pass the time, and turned up the radio.

Not realizing how fast she was going, and how slick the roads were, she sailed through a stop sign—right where a police car sat. The lights and siren came on a moment later.

She hit her steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

She pulled over, rehearsing her speech in her head as the cop stalked up to her window.

“Are you aware how fast you were going, young lady?” He asked, a slight accent rolling off his tongue.

She batted her eyelashes. “I am so sorry, officer. It’s just that I’m a new driver, and I was rushing home to babysit my little sister, and I haven’t gotten the hang of speed control yet. I swear, I’ve never even gone over the speed limit before.” She pouted for full effect.

The officer stared for a moment, seemingly trying to decide what to do. Finally, he sighed. “I’ll give you a warning this time, but you better get your daddy to teach you how to work that speed control.”

 _Good idea. Do you have a ouija board I could borrow?_ “Of course, officer. Thank you.”

He waved her on, and as soon as he was out of sight, she swore consecutively.

3:02pm.

She knocked on the door, ten minutes after she was supposed to arrive, and it swung open three seconds later.

She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I got pulled over, thank god he just let me off with a warning—“

He grabbed her wrist, and roughly pulled her inside. Slamming the door closed, he shoved her up against it, and she felt everything tighten in want. He held her hands above her head, and talked into her neck, mouthing at her skin.

“Are you aware how long ten minutes is when you’ve already been waiting for _hours_?”

His one hand slid down her hip, and rested on her ass. She arched her back as his mouth travelled lower, making her breasts ache.

“I have a small inkling.” She tried not to sound too breathless.

Humming incredulously, he popped open the buttons on her blouse with his teeth, a party trick that always drove her up a fucking wall. She bucked her hips, trying to wiggle out of the grip he had on her hands—she’d been waiting all day for this, and she couldn’t properly enjoy it if she wasn’t doing at least some work.

“Impatient?” He asked, sounding completely calm. A stark contrast to the way he was frantically undressing her.

“Always,” It came out like a moan.

She felt him smirk against her skin, and finally her hands were released. She pushed them into his curls, scratching at his skull gently—something that she knew drove him up a wall.

She’d met Bellamy a year ago, and naturally, they’d hated each other. He got under her skin in a way nobody else could, and she him. Eventually, the tension snapped, and she ended up in his bed. But, even now, they still weren’t friends.

They fucked on a weekly basis, and they studied together sometimes, but that was as far as it went. She never stayed after, they never talked about anything except school, and even that was limited. She was happy with their arrangement; no commitment, no hurt feelings—it was a win-win.

When her upper half was completely naked, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked to his bedroom, and deposited her on the bed. He peeled off his shirt, and she bit her lip as each new inch of tanned skin was exposed. He smirked when he saw her watching, and rolling her eyes, she pulled him on top of her.

His fingers slipped into her jeans, and she dug her fingers into his back. “Why’d you get pulled over?”

Her head fell back, and she nearly grit the word out. “Speeding.”

His grin was shit-eating, now. “Couldn’t wait to get here, huh?”

She managed to scowl. “You were the one who couldn’t wait til I got through the door to start ripping my clothes off.”

His fingers ceased their movement. “Would you prefer me to stop?”

“ _Talking_ , yeah.” She rocked her hips, and he shook his head, chuckling, beginning to pump his fingers again.

She came again, and they both stripped, clothes dropping to the floor with pleasant thuds—his belt, however, accidentally went flying, setting the mirror on his wall askew. Laughing, she pushed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

“I wanna be on top.”

He settled against the pillows, smug. “Fine with me.”

She splayed her hands against his chest, and poised above his dick, finally sitting onto him. They both adjusted, and began to move with each other. Soon, they were both slick with sweat, and when she started to cry out, he flipped them so he could drive his hips into hers.

Panting, he rolled away from her, and she did her best to slow her breathing. When it eventually evened out, she sat up, and began hunting for her clothes. He always threw them fucking everywhere, she was genuinely surprised he didn’t take the time to carefully fold them. He was insanely neat; the house was always polished whenever she came over.

“Where the hell is my bra?”

He lifted his head, and she averted her eyes from his still exposed groin. He never bothered to get dressed after. “I think it’s downstairs.”

She groaned. “So far _away_.”

He laughed, throwing his forearm across his eyes. “I’ll try to chuck it _up_ stairs next time.”

“Thank you,” She said, mock solemn. “It’d be greatly appreciated.”

He huffed a laugh, peeking an eye open as she pulled on her shirt—she’d put on her bra downstairs—and opened his mouth as if to say something. But he shook his head, seemingly deciding on something else. “Try not to get a speeding ticket this time.”

She headed for his door, flipping him off the entire time.

***

“We should do this.”

She took the flyer out of his hand, trying to choke down her shock that they were talking in school.

She read aloud. “Christmas Couples Contest. Participate in quizzes, games and other fun to win $200 in cash and other prizes. Must be couples who have been dating for six months or more.” She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware that we were a couple at all.”

He took back the flyer, excitement still lighting up his eyes. “We aren’t—that’s the point. We _pretend_. We’ll win, and split the cash.”

She cocked an eyebrow, continuing to put away her books. “You’re really willing to put that much effort into something for a hundred bucks?”

“And other prizes!” He pointed aggressively towards the flyer.

She bit her lip, thinking. What was the harm? Pretending to be Bellamy’s girlfriend didn’t seem all that bad—except that Roma Van Housen might turn green, but—that was a risk she would be willing to take.

She sighed, knowing this had a 87 percent chance of ending in a shit show. “What do I have to do?”

“ _Fuck_ , yes.” He followed her as she began to walk to class. “Well, we’d need to come up with a back story, and I’m guessing the quizzes would be about each other? So we’d have to prepare for that. But the games we have in the bag—“

“Why don’t I come over tomorrow? And we can figure everything out then.”

“Ah,” He scratched the back of his neck, awkward. “I actually can’t tomorrow.”

“Cheating on me already, huh?”

He pinched her side, and she squealed, ducking out from his reach. He cupped the back of his neck. “Actually, my mom’s supposed to be home.”

She tried not to look shocked. In the time she’d known Bellamy, she’d never seen anyone at the house but him. She knew he had a sibling—but they were never there when she was. And she had a feeling there was a reason for that. “Oh yeah? For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who knows.”

She bumped him with her shoulder, affectionate. “Well, I’m glad. Is there any other time you can spare?”

“Saturday?”

She nodded. “Works for me.”

***

She wasn’t freaking out. Or, at least she wasn’t going to admit that she was. She had gone over to Bellamy’s house countless times, and not one of them had involved her stressing over what to wear. It had never even crossed her mind to worry about it—clearly he was attracted to her, if the regular sex was any indication. And it wasn’t like the clothes she did wear stayed on for every long.  And since when did she care what he thought? Whatever this was, she wanted it to stop.

In the end, she settled on an oversized knit sweater, and ripped jeans. She stared down her reflection in the mirror.

“Now, you listen,” she pointed a finger. “Nothing has changed. You both are in this for the cash, and that is it. We are not becoming some cute but predictable hallmark movie. I absolutely refuse. Got it?”

Unsurprisingly, her reflection didn’t answer, but she still felt slightly more grounded. She fluffed her hair a little and left without another thought.

Three more pep talks were required to get her through his door, but she ended up there eventually.

“You want a drink?” He asked from the kitchen, which was connected to the living room. She’d never taken the time to actually look at his house before—other than to notice how freakishly neat it was.

And now that she could, she was surprised to find that she loved it. “Just water is good, yeah.”

He produced two bottles, and settled on the couch next to her. And that’s when the awkwardness set in.

She squirmed a little, waiting for him to take the lead. But clearly he was waiting for the same thing, because they spent a full minute in complete silence before he huffed.

“I’m just going to say what’s on both our minds. I feel like I should be upstairs, and naked.”

She snorted. “I’d love to say I wasn’t thinking that, but—“

“But you totally were.”

“I totally was.”

He shook his head, laughing. “Well, now that that’s out of the way. What’s our story, girlfriend?”

It sends a little jolt through her, hearing him call her that, one that she promptly ignored. “I _would_ say to stick with what we know—we started sleeping together, and then it eventually became more than that—but that’s not exactly ‘school appropriate’.”

He stretched out, brushing his leg against hers, then letting it rest there. “I would agree. But we could still do that, technically—just leave out the sex. We were paired on an assignment together, got to know each other, and bam! Romance.”

She grinned. “It’s not exactly a meet cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve clearly never read fanfiction before. I’d bet at least half are just that.”

Her eyebrows too, were raised. “You read fanfiction?”

“Sometimes the shows don’t give me enough!” He said, splaying his arms. “I need sufficient amounts of Brooklyn 99 to survive, Clarke!”

She laughed, resting her chin on her palm. “Ok, fine, understood.” She pulled her legs under her. “We should take care of the quiz part, right?”

“Good idea. Um, what’s your favourite food?”

“Italian. You?”

“I like everything, honestly. Except sushi.” He shuddered.

“Duly noted. Favourite colour?”

His eyes snapped to hers, and he worried his lip. “Blue. Light.”

She nodded. “Cool, mine’s gold.”

In half an hour, she had learned more about Bellamy Blake than she had the entire time she’d known him. He wanted to be a history teacher when he graduated, his favourite pass time was reading or cooking, his pet peeve was anyone who half-assed things. He was a feminist, and pansexual. She told him that she was bi, and they fist bumped mutely.

“Well, I think that was a good first session.” He declared. His feet were resting on her thighs, and they were passing back and forth a bag of pretzels.

“It was certainly a start.” She agreed.

He looked at her, then cocked his head. “You wanna have sex, now?”

She laughed, then climbed onto his lap. “Horny teenager.” She teased, biting his earlobe.

He rocked up against her. “Takes one to know one.”

“Can’t argue with that.” And she pulled his shirt over his head.

***

(It wasn’t until after she left that she realized she hadn’t seen his mom, but she figured that she just had been out while Clarke had been there. That was all.)

***

“ _You’re_ dating Bellamy Blake?” Raven said in a way of greeting, sitting beside her in a huff in their biology class.

Her head popped up so fast she almost flew off her stool. “What? How do you know?”

“Everyone knows!” Raven said, aggressively getting out her notes. “They posted the couples participating in that contest today! Were you ever planning on telling me?”

If she had actually been dating Bellamy, she still wouldn’t have told Raven immediately. Being cheated on by the same guy didn’t usually make the best foundation for a friendship, but in their case it had. Unfortunately, it made talking about guys weird. “We were keeping it quiet for a while—didn’t want it to be messed up.” She and Bellamy hadn’t gone over that fact exactly, but she figured that was good enough.

Raven slapped her arm in what she assumed was affection, but _fuck_ it hurt. “Ow! What was that for!”

“You do realize that everyone has been routing for you two to get together for like, decades, right?”

She hadn’t, actually. “Well, since we’ve only known each other for a year, I’m gonna say that’s a bit of an overstatement.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. People have made bets on this—it’s what everyone talks about. I betted you’d start fucking first, then get your shit together. But—I’m happy for you two crazy kids either way.”

She tried not to choke. First of all, it was terrifying how well Raven knew them. Secondly, since when did anyone even know her name? Let alone root for her to get with someone? Fuck, even dedicate _time_ to it? Did Bellamy know about this? She knew this was going to be a shit show. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it.

She shrugged, keeping her slight meltdown internal. “Seems like a lot of unnecessary dedication to me.”

“Uh, uh.” Raven waggled her finger. “You’re not getting out that easy. I want details. When did it happen, who asked who, how’s the sex? I bet it’s good as fuck, right?”

Now this, Clarke was prepared for. “It was off and on for a while—before summer, actually. But—oh don’t look at me like that—we didn’t want to _tell_ anyone in case it didn’t work out. We’re solid now, though.”

“More, more, more.” Raven chanted, banging her fist on the table.

“He asked me, uh—and the sex is great?”

She quirked a brow. “You asking or telling?”

“Telling. Definitely.” She said, then added, “He’s really good with his hands—and his mouth.” She’d never tell _him_ that, of course.

Raven awkwardly patted her head, since she didn’t hug. “I’m glad you finally got your heads out of your asses. I was worried they were going to be stuck permanently.”

“Ha.” She half laughed, half sighed. “Yeah.”

***

She found Bellamy after class, standing with his friends, who all whistled as she approached. He glared at them, so convincingly she almost believed it herself, then tucked her under his arm.

He squeezed her hip. “What’s up?”

She let herself hug his waist—she was playing the part, sue her. “Can we talk?” Her tone was light, but the boys still let out ‘ooh’ noises and backed away, as if there was a wild dog in their presence.

After they’d gone, he leaned against the lockers, playing with her fingers. “Everything alright?”

“Did you know people put bets on us getting together?”

His eyebrows shot up quick enough to get stuck. “Who told you that?”

“Raven.” She stepped closer, staring at their hands. “She betted that we’d fuck first, then get together.”

He laughed. “She always was scarily accurate.” He lowered his voice. “Did you tell her the truth?”

She yanked her gaze away from their interlocked fingers. “What? No. Why? Did you tell anyone?”

“No. I was just wondering. I think it’s better for no one to know; less chance of losing.”

Her stomach dropped, and she pulled away. “Right. We wouldn’t want that.”

He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, easy. Asshole. “Yeah, well, that’s the whole point isn’t it?”

Her blood was pumping so loud in her ears, she couldn’t think. “Yep. That’s—yep. Um—I’ve gotta—get to class. See you—see you later.”

She was gone before he could even raise his hand to wave.

***

What was wrong with her? She’d known what she was signing up for, even before the contest. They were strictly fuck buddies, nothing more, nothing less. And after the contest, they’d go back to exactly that. She’d known that.

She’d spent the next class in a complete daze, copying notes mindlessly. And she wasn’t even really mad at him—she’d been sleeping with him for how long? If he wanted anything more, something would have happened by now. She was just going to have to pick up her pride and move on.

It was fine. Totally doable. Not at all a difficulty in any way. _Fine_.

***

“All contestants participating in the Christmas Couples Contest, please make your way to gym 2. That’s all Christmas Couples Contest participants, please make your way to gym 2.”

She clenched her fingers, and cringing, got up from her desk. A few people cheered, and she resisted the urge to flip them off as she exited the classroom.

Bellamy was already standing outside the gym doors, clearly waiting for her. He was wearing a crisp blue button down, and dark jeans. And the ass even had the nerve to smile when he saw her—unbelievable. He should have known what that did to her.

“Hey, you ready?” He reached for her hand, and she gave it to him.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The contest was supposed to last until christmas break, which was in a week. And there was a slew of activities planned until then, she hadn’t quite realized how much effort had gone into this. There was an obstacle course, ugliest matching sweaters, best duet, and of course, which couple knew each other the best.

The gym was decorated in christmas colours, and there was even a large tree in the corner.

“This is—this is amazing.” She breathed, her fingers itching to sketch.

He squeezed her hand, clearly in awe as well.

“Alright, alright. Is everyone here? Yes? Good, let’s get started.” Harper McIntyre stood on the stage, holding a microphone. “It’s gonna go like this; there are ten couples, and today five of them will be eliminated. Yes, yes, we’re cruel—we know. You will do an obstacle course with your SO today, and the couples with the slowest time will be chopped. The other days only one couple will be eliminated, but those will depend on winning—and votes from your fellow students.”

Jasper Jordan jumped up beside her, snatching away the microphone. “But! The most important thing to to have fun! So let’s get into the course.”

“Of course the very first challenge is one to do with physical activity.” Clarke muttered, only so Bellamy could hear her.

He smiled, and tucked her into his side.

Put into the simplest terms; they had to run around a few times, jump through some hoops, and collect some Christmas themed items. Half way through, they switched, and that half finished the course.

Clarke was doing the first half, and Bellamy would finish it.

“Now,” Bellamy said, helping her get into position. “If you don’t tag me in first, it’s alright, we don’t even have to win. We just have to get fifth place. Alright? Just do your best.”

She side eyed him. “You don’t think I’m up for this or something?”

He looked genuinely taken back. “I— _no_. I’m just saying—that—you know what. I’m just gonna stand over here and let you do your thing.”

She nodded, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, you do that.”

They lined up, and she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her. She might not have been the most active person, but she was competitive as hell.

“On your mark!” Jasper yelled. “Get set! Go!”

She took off at a leap, collecting an elf on the shelf, mistletoe, and a christmas sock in under thirty seconds.

Bellamy was screaming supportively from the sidelines. “Go, Clarke! Faster! Fuck, yeah!”

After she was finished with the hoops, she tagged him in, and it wasn’t until after she did that that she realized they were in the lead.

She was chanting and stomping her feet as Bellamy skipped rope, and collected the other half of her christmas sock, an ornament, and a santa hat. Finally, he had to crawl through a dog tunnel, and run to the finish line to ring a bell.

“Go, Bell!” She screamed. “Fucking run!”

He pulled ahead of Sterling at the last second, and rang the bell so hard he nearly broke it.

She jumped into the air in excitement, and ran into his arms. “We did it!”

He squeezed her. “I never doubted it.”

She smacked his chest, and not lightly.

***

“I just don’t understand why they have to be ugly. Why can’t it be cute christmas sweaters? Is that really too much to ask for?”

Bellamy patted her leg. “Oh sweetie, you know you can make anything look cute.”

She scowled, sensing the insincerity. “But it’d be nice if I didn’t have to put so much effort into it.”

“Sad,” he agreed. “Fry?”

Begrudgingly, she accepted the fry he held out to her, and munched poutily. They figured they had better start actively hanging out at school, if they wanted to seem like a couple. She’d sat with him at lunch for the past couple of days, and she actually hadn’t vomited yet.

“We still on for tonight?” She asked, after a few minutes in silence.

He nodded. “Yeah, swing by whenever.”

The thing was, fake dating took a lot of effort. And it was beginning to cut into their sex lives.

He stabbed at what was left of her salad, shovelling a mouthful in. “What’d you get for number six in history?”

That was another thing—it should have been weird. They shouldn’t have felt so comfortable with each other, and she certainly shouldn’t have been actually enjoying his company. But things were always so easy with Bellamy. It was one of the main reasons she’d kept sleeping with him—there was never any bullshit. No feelings, no strings, no awkwardness. They both could have slept with others if they’d wanted, and if one of them wasn’t feeling it, no one’s ego was hurt.

It was the best kind of unhealthy.

***

She knocked, and she heard swearing, before the door finally creaked open.

“Clarke.” He said, surprise in his voice. “Oh— _fuck_. Shit, I forgot to call you. Fucking—my sister decided to pull an intervention, by herself.”

She was anything but upset about this. “Right now? May I ask why anyone would ever want to change a single thing about you? Seems completely unrealistic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too.”

“Who are we fucking?” A feminine voice asked, and then materialized beside Bellamy.

His sister was cute, to say the least. Straight dark hair, a strong jaw, and sharp eyes. Clarke almost felt insecure.

She smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clarke. Bellamy’s—“ She paused, not sure what to define herself as when it came to Bellamy.

He glanced at her, then looked back at his sister, determination set into his features. “She’s my girlfriend.” He said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Clarke, meet Octavia.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “If you want to know who named me, his name starts with B and ends in _loser_.”

“Hey, good spelling.” Bellamy said, unfazed.

She kicked his shin. “Hey, good manners. Invite your girlfriend in already.”

Clarke was already shaking her head, already saying she didn’t want to intrude—but Bellamy grabbed her wrist, and gave Octavia a pointed look.

She rolled her eyes, and sashayed her way inside.

He gave Clarke a sheepish smile. “I know this wasn’t what you had in mind but—“

Her heart jumped into her throat, but she swallowed it. “It’s just for show after all, right? It’d weird if I hadn’t met your sister yet.”

His smile faltered for half a second, but he collected himself before she could decipher what it meant. “Exactly.” He agreed. “Just—for show.”

“Close the door already!” Octavia shouted. “I’m freezing my ass off in here!”

Bellamy shook his head, trying not to smile as he pulled her inside. “You’ll have to excuse her. I don’t know _who_ raised her.”

Octavia was stealing cookie dough out of a bowl when they entered the kitchen, and she seemed unfazed by his words. “Go look in the mirror, old man.”

Her words didn’t register at first, but when they did, Clarke raised her eyebrows at Bellamy. “ _You_ raised her?”

“That’s what she tells me every time I try to tell her she’s morally corrupt, yeah.” He moved beside his sister, swatting her hands away from the batter.

“How? And—and—why?” She spluttered, incredulous.

Octavia cocked her head. “He hasn’t told you?”

She sobered suddenly, realizing. She glanced at Bellamy, and opened her mouth to salvage something—what girlfriend doesn’t know about her boyfriend’s childhood?

Bellamy just laughed. “She hasn’t unlocked Ultimate Trauma yet, O.”

Octavia smiled. “Worried she’ll go running scared?”

He glanced at Clarke, and she felt like he was looking right through her. Through every lie she’d spun. “Something like that.”

She looked away, his intense gaze suddenly too much, and started to wander. There were pictures hung crookedly on the wall, kids with missing teeth and skinned knees. She noticed there weren’t any family photos.

After a surprisingly non-awkward dinner, Bellamy excused them both to go for a walk.

“Thanks for letting me crash your dinner,” She said to Octavia.

She grinned. “It’s not crashing if you were invited.”

Bellamy coughed, and continued coughing as he led Clarke outside. He tucked her under his arm, presumably because of the cold.

“Octavia seems sweet.”

He glanced at her. “Then she’s a fantastic actor.”

Clarke laughed, surprised. “Really?”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s just—she’s extreme. Everything she does has to push the limit, you know?”

“I’m guessing that has something to do with—what did you call it? Ultimate Trauma?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Yeah, that’s most of it.” He sighed, and she didn’t want to pressure him into anything.

“You don’t have to tell me—it’s none of my business.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.” She grinned.

He looked upwards, inhaling. He didn’t look at her as he began to speak. “My dad died before I was born, and O’s dad was an asshole—but he left when she was four. My mom—as I’m sure you’ve gathered—isn’t around very often. Never has been. When I was six, I took it upon myself to make sure O had a better childhood than I did.”

“Pretty ambitious six-year-old.” She said.

He shrugged, modest. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Her heart flipped annoyingly in her chest, how had she never noticed how fucking amazing Bellamy was before?

 _It’s probably shitty to be attracted to someone because they had a fucked family growing up,_ she thought.

“Anyways,” he said. “Enough about me. Any dramatic traumatic experiences in your life?”

Her blood pumped loudly in her ears. _Well, here goes nothing._ “My dad—he, uh, he died about six months ago.”

He stopped walking. “Shit. Clarke—how?”

She shrugged, not meeting his eye. “Car crash. Died instantly on impact.”

His face softened, and he pulled her against his chest, stroking her hair. She allowed her hands to come around his waist—just enjoying being held.

“Six months,” He said. “Isn’t that—isn’t that when we started hooking up?”

She nodded, still hugging him. “I needed—a distraction. And you just happened to be there.”

He was silent for a minute, so long she almost pulled back to see what was wrong. But then he spoke, “And did it work?”

“What?”

“Did I distract you?”

She looked at him, and he didn’t seem mad, just—curious. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”

He pulled her back against him. “Good.”

***

It was the final day of the contest—and she couldn’t have been more fucked.

“You okay?” Bellamy said into her temple. They were in a separate room from where the contest was being held—so they couldn’t hear the questions and practice them.

She glanced at him, at how fond he looked. “Yeah. I’m good. You?”

“Couldn’t be better, princess.” He replied, the picture of relaxation. She wished she could relate.

“Next up!” Jasper shouted. “My personal favourite—Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin!” Harper was giving him a talking to as they walked out, and Clarke swore she heard him say ‘of course I can have favourites. Show me the rule book!’

They took the stage, facing each other with white boards in their hands. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she did her best to return it.

“Okay, you guys are our last couple, all you have to do is get eight out of ten questions right. First question,” Harper looked at Clarke. “What’s Bellamy’s middle name?”

She bit her lip in a smile, and wrote down her answer. She looked at Bellamy, smirking.

They flipped their boards at the same moment.

 _Dick_ , was written on both of them.

“Technically,” Bellamy said to the crowd. “It’s Richard.”

Harper smiled. “Good. Next, when did you first meet?”

 _January 2nd, 2017_. she wrote, and waited for Harper to gesture for her to show her answer.

“Ooh,” Harper said once she saw the answers. “I’m sorry, but someone got it wrong.”

 _October 31st, 2016_ read Bellamy’s. She gave him a _what the fuck_ look. Was he purposely trying to sabotage them?

“We were both at that Halloween party.” He started to explain. “And you’d been drinking—I drove you home.”

She racked her brain, trying to remember. She had a small recollection of arriving at the party—it was a few days after her parents divorce, and she was a mess. She’d drank until she could barely stand, and then—someone had taken her home. She remembered being carried to her bedroom, and the next morning she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there.

Her eyes widened. “It was you.”

He smiled. “It was me.”

There a small cry, and she glanced to her left to find Jasper nearly in tears. “It’s so _cute_!” He sobbed.

Harper simply shook her head. “Moving on, who made the first move?”

 _Bellamy_ , was on both their boards.

They got every other question right, which meant—

“Looks like we have our winners folks!” Harper said, clapping.

She grinned at Bellamy, unable to contain her happiness. He moved towards her, then swept her up into a hug.

She couldn’t believe they had won. It was all over, the contest was finished—and suddenly her good mood soured. She wouldn’t be pretending to be with Bellamy any longer, they’d go back to hooking up and barely talking. And maybe not even that—what if he was done with her after this?

She wouldn’t let that happen. She’d—she’d just have to do it first.

Bellamy pulled back, still grinning. “You wanna go celebrate?”

Her knee-jerk reaction was to agree, to soak up as much time with him as she could, but instead, she pulled away from his embrace. “Actually, can we talk?”

His face fell slightly, but in a second he had switched to a concerned mother hen. “Yeah, everything okay?”

She didn’t answer.

She led him to a deserted hallway, and left a good foot of space between them. “I—I think we should break up.”

He was surprised, to say the least. “What do you mean, break up? We’re not—we’re not even together.”

She could feel her throat tightening, her heart screaming at her to stop, while her head plunged forward. “After this—we won’t be able to go back to how it was before. It’s Christmas break, we don’t have to pretend anymore—we’ll say we broke up over the holidays.”

He crossed his arms, defensiveness creeping into his features. “So that’s it. The contest finishes and we’re done. Just like that?”

“Bellamy—don’t be mad, I just—can’t keep pretending.” She was so tired of pretending.

He flared his nostrils, pushing away from the lockers. “You’re tired? _You’re_ —alright, Clarke. Fine. Have it your way—I don’t care anymore.” He did everything but stomp away from her, angrily shoving open the doors and letting them slam closed behind him.

 _I won’t cry. I will not cry. You wanted this._ She practiced taking deep breaths, and then Harper came through the doors.

“Clarke!” She was waving something. “You’ve got to collect your prizes!”

Harper handed her a cheque, and then started to explain about the other prizes. Clarke waved a hand. “I don’t—just give away the other prizes. The cash is enough.”

She looked puzzled. “You sure?”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m sure. Split them up between the other couples.”

She left before Harper could object any further.

***

She stared at the cheque for three days straight. She couldn’t spend it, she didn’t even _want_ it. It had been Bellamy who was in it for the money—he deserved it.

She huffed, grabbing up the slip of paper and her jacket. She was tired of looking at it.

Bellamy lived far enough to drive to—and she normally did. But she was afraid she’d drive right by if she’d brought her car.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door before she lost her nerve.

“Coming!” He shouted. A second later, he was standing in front of her.

He was too surprised to be angry at first. “Clarke? What—what are you doing here?”

Wordlessly, she handed him the cheque, and prepared to run right back down the stairs as soon as he took it.

Except her feet wouldn’t move.

“What is this?” He gritted out.

“It’s—it’s the two hundred dollars. I couldn’t—you should have it.” _Fucking move, Griffin, what’s wrong with you?_

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Let me get this straight. You ‘break up’ with me, ignore me for three days, then show up because you feel too guilty to spend the money we won? How does that make any sense to you, Clarke?” He spat.

She flinched as if she’d been hit. “I never wanted to hurt you, Bellamy. It had nothing to do with you—“

“Where’s your car?” He said, suddenly.

He wasn’t looking at her any longer, and she was caught off guard by the sudden interruption. “It’s, uh—at home. I walked.”

He shook his head, and then he was slipping on his coat, and locking the door behind him. “It’s fucking freezing. I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to do that—“

“Clarke.” He had his eyes closed, as if he couldn’t bear to see her. “Your hands are blue.”

She glanced down, and sure enough, her hands were so pale and cold that they were blue. She stuffed them inside her pockets, and mutely followed him to his car.

“What happened to the other prizes?” He asked, a few minutes into the drive.

And that snapped whatever resolve she’d managed to keep. “Is that all you fucking care about?”

“What?”

“Were you really only in it for the money? Is that _all_ that mattered to you? You’re unbelievable.” She made a noise of disgust, turning towards the window.

“Are you serious, right now? You’re the one that said it was all for show. You’re the one that cut me off as soon as you didn’t need me anymore!” He shouted.

“Only because you were going to do it first!” She shouted back at him.

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“You signed us up, Bellamy.” She said, her anger turning to sadness. “You played every angle you could, made sure the ‘fans’ loved us—and as soon as it was over, you would take the cash and leave.”

His grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white. “I don’t know where you got that indication from—but you’re so far off it’s almost humorous.”

She crossed her arms, clenching and unclenching her jaw to keep from crying. It didn’t matter what he said—he didn’t want what she wanted, and she was just going to have to live with that.

***

The last thing she wanted to do was go out, but she was bored of wallowing in her bedroom. So she stuck on a nice dress that showed off her cleavage, and drove to the first party she could find.

It was Christmas Eve, and god be damned if she was going to stay in because some boy didn’t like her.

The whole house already smelled like alcohol when she walked in, and she took the cup she was offered.

“Clarke!” Someone shouted, then she almost fell over as someone rammed into her.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” Raven yelled, directly into her ear.

“Clearly, you haven’t.” Raven was drunk enough to put Murphy to shame.

“Come, come, come! Let’s play beer pong!” Raven dragged her through the crowd, not bothering to say excuse me.

A couple of hours later, Clarke was lightly buzzed, but not enough to make her lose control. The last thing she wanted was to get drunk enough to black out, and do something stupid—like call Bellamy.

She’d lost Raven twenty minutes ago, and her feet hurt too much to go find her. She plopped herself down on the couch to people watch, and a second later, someone sat down beside her.

“Hey, you’re Clarke, right?” He had dark skin, and a buzzed head. She recognized him from somewhere—

“I’m Bellamy’s best friend, Miller. In case you’re too wasted to remember.”

“Oh!” She said, stupidly. “I knew I recognized you. Um, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to say I’m happy for you guys. He’d been pining like a loser for—jesus, who _knows_ how long. I’m honestly surprised he even had the nerve to ask you out.”

Her world was tilting dangerously, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. Bellamy? Pining? Over _her_? “When you say pining, how long do you mean?”

Miller smirked. “As long as he’s known you, basically. Oh,” he added. “Don’t tell him I said I was happy. We don’t do that.”

She laughed, suddenly feeling so light it was as if she could float. “Duly noted.” She stood, then turned back. “Thanks, Miller.”

“Anytime.”

She practically ran to her car, stepping on it the entire way. It wasn’t a guaranteed that he’d be home—but she’d look for him all night if she had to.

She ran up the stairs, nearly breaking her ankle in the process, and rapped on his door.

She heard him mumbling on his way to open it, and she knew she should have felt nervous, but she was too happy. He felt the same—he’d felt the same for _months_.

She started talking as soon as he opened the door. “When I first met you, I wrote you off as some jackass with an ego problem. And then, when we started sleeping together, I still didn’t see past the front you put up.” She inhaled. “These past two weeks have been absolute torture, Bellamy. I’ve realized that you’re smart and funny and kind and on top of all that you genuinely _care_ about other people. And then—I realized that I was in love with you, and it scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to be the dumbass standing around while you drifted away, so I did it first. And god, I know how stupid that was—“

His jaw was basically touching the floor. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”

She nodded, a smile starting to show. “Yeah. And Miller told me you’ve basically been in love with me for months, so—“

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him, and then he was  _kissing_ her. She pressed her entire body up against his, revelling in how good his mouth felt on hers. They could have been doing this for _months_.

After they broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sure that you’re aware of all the shitty poems that say shit like they’d walk across oceans and fight fires for the person they love?”

“I’m vaguely familiar, yes.”

He bopped his nose against hers. “Well, compile those all together, and that’s how I feel about you.”

She laughed, completely giddy. “Minimal effort speech, but still 10/10.”

He kissed her again, but they were both smiling so hard it didn’t work very well.

“Stop _smiling_ so I can kiss you.” He said, walking backwards towards the stairs.

“ _You_ stop smiling so I can kiss you.” She shot back.

They broke apart to travel upstairs, and then immediately began getting undressed.

Afterwards, as they laid tangled up in each other, he somehow managed to pull her closer.

“Hey,” He said, grinning.

She laughed. “Hi.”

“Do you know why my favourite colour is blue?”

“Light blue.” She corrected. “And no.”

He pushed the hair out of her eyes, and then took her face in his hands. “Because that’s what colour your eyes are.”

“You are such a nerd. I love you.” She rocked against him. “You ready to go again?”

“Way to keep the romance going.”

“I didn’t hear a no.” She sing-songed, rocking against him harder.

He laughed, and positioned himself above her all the same. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your tinsel in a tangle.”

**_fin._ **

 

 

 


End file.
